No Small Fictions

This is the third coffee I have chased with regret
I have not watched the walls spin since yesterday’s end
This decade feels carved into my veins
A quiet uprising I can never quite defend
I mark the nights when the bed turns foe
When the slightest fever lays me out cold
As if I had invited the chaos to stay


I murmur my thanks to the mirror each dawn
That my eyes fail to spill the storm inside
No one sees the tremor
No one sees the edge I ride


I speak the raw edges even when they cut
No sweet fictions tucked in my sleeve
Only plain capsules that dream of indigo
Small armour that props me up
One more breath
One more step
One more fight against the fade


It drains me to name each way I break
Yet silence makes the creak and ache ring louder
Muscles scheme rebellion in the dark
Nerves flicker signals like faulty lamps
Flesh as a fickle storyteller twisting tales
Pulse as the only steady truth in the fray


I take the bitter rival to claim my ground
So I can rise without pleading
So I can keep pace
So I can stay present in the light
Even when the shadows pull at my feet


I voice the grit because it anchors me here
No sweet fictions tucked in my sleeve
Only plain capsules that dream of indigo
They haul me upright
They brace the core
I face the light once more
And more
And more